


/ / M E / /

by SeraphStarshine



Series: The 1975 One-Shots [2]
Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Depression, Drug Use, M/M, Me - The 1975, Oneshot, Please be safe reading this, Song Lyrics, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:25:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6256489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeraphStarshine/pseuds/SeraphStarshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The fact that the idea of death brings Matty so much peace should scare him slightly, but it doesn't, and really - he isn't entirely sure why he is still bothering to put in the effort involved in keeping himself alive in the first place.</i>
</p><p>Loosely based off of the song Me</p>
            </blockquote>





	/ / M E / /

**Author's Note:**

> So here is the next installation of this collection.
> 
> As any of you who have heard this song can probably guess, this ended up being very depressing, so please be safe if you choose to read this. 
> 
> This contains major triggers including depression, drug use, and suicidal thoughts and actions.

**/ / M E / /**

**_I got a plane in the middle of the night, don't you mind_ **

Matty's head is spinning, and he thinks he's going to be sick, but he also doesn't care enough to move from his position sprawled across his dingy couch.

The cocaine thrumming through his veins isn't helping like it usually does. He hasn't been transported to another world filled with sensations and ecstasy, _no_ \- he's still stuck inside his fucked up head, which is the last place on earth he wants to be.

Matty reaches out toward the table in front of him, his fingers shifting through the small baggies littered there, hoping to unearth one which still contains a few crystals that he missed the first time around.

Matty just needs one more line, even if he's already so high the room is constantly shifting around him, even if it kills him, _hell_ \- he doesn't think he would be particularly bothered by that at all.

The fact that the idea of death brings Matty so much peace should scare him slightly, but it doesn't, and _really_ \- he isn't entirely sure why he is still bothering to put in the effort involved in keeping himself alive in the first place.

**_I nearly killed somebody, don't you mind, don't you mind_ **

It wouldn't be the first time Matty's made an attempt, even though he's always played it off as an accidental overdose in the past. He somehow manages to pull through after each one, but he's secretly praying for the day when he closes his eyes and doesn't wake up.

Matty's aware of how unhealthy his current train of thought is, but the grey lump of matter that resides inside his head is diseased. He's been diagnosed with depression for years, but he's long ago stopped taking the meds recommended to him, and even when he used to fill the prescription on a regular basis, he ended up trading them for harder things more often than not.

And _really_ \- Matty doesn't know how to feel when he's not sad, because then everything gets coated in an unpleasant numbness that somehow hurts worse than the perpetual sorrow that surrounds him on a daily basis.

He should just end it all now, it's not like things are going to get any better. Matty doesn't know why he insists on hanging around when it's been made abundantly clear that the world would be better off without him, but it's probably something to do with the unknown, and the fact that he's scared of where he'll go if he does take that irreversible step.

Matty has nothing left though - not _anymore_ that is. The band that he poured his heart and soul into crashed and burned before it even got off the ground, leaving Matty buried underneath the wreckage of his dreams, broken and bleeding and lacking in the strength to patch himself back together again.

He can't hold down a job, routine drug tests make sure of that, so now he sings on the side of the road, trying to pass off his failed attempts at poetry as some sort of lyrics, praying to receive enough handouts to be able to pay his rent for another month, not to mention to purchase his next fix.

**_I gave you something you can never give back, don't you mind_ **

It's a constant struggle now between the two, and the drugs have won out more often than not, leaving him on the edge of being evicted with nowhere to go. Matty's resorted to using his body as payment with his dealer when he's low on cash, but that only gets him so much, and at the rate he's snorting it, the eight balls aren't lasting him nearly long enough.

Matty was disgusted with himself at first, but now it's become a routine to drop his pants before he's allowed to leave with the drugs. Matty's mostly numb to it all now, although he hasn't felt clean since he's started putting out for cocaine, and his self-loathing has reached dangerous levels lately, but he can forget about all that once he's gotten a few lines up his nose.

Ross has offered up his flat of course when Matty mentioned his precarious position with his landlord, but Matty can't do that to him. He's got a girlfriend now, and a kid on the way, so Matty's presence would only be an unnecessary burden on his last remaining friend.

**_You see my face like a heart attack, don't you mind, don't you mind_ **

Matty's driven everyone else away, although Adam will occasionally check in on him, which Matty is convinced is only because of Ross's prodding, but it's the loss of George that hurts Matty the most, even though he's doing his best to pretend that it doesn't, but he isn't fooling anyone, especially not himself.

It's his fault though, Matty knows that. They haven't spoken in months, not since George discovered that Matty had been lying to his face for far too long, but Matty didn't have any other choice.

George knows about Matty's problems with cocaine, and he hates it, so Matty pretended he was getting better, which he was - _sort of_. He had cut back at the very least, not wanting George to notice his blown out pupils or shaking hands, and George had believed him until he happened upon Matty's stash one day while he had been tidying up their room.

George had thrown all of it away, confronting Matty about it the moment he returned back to their shared flat, his eyes flashing with hurt as he pleaded for Matty to tell him that it was an old supply that he had forgotten existed, but Matty couldn't deceive his best friend any longer, so he allowed the truth to tumble past his chapped lips, unaware of the consequences that he would be forced to face once his words hit the open air.

George was furious of course, lashing out at Matty in frustration, calling him an idiot, and a moron, pretty much any variation of that term that he could think of. He threatened to place Matty in rehab, and that was when Matty had lost it, telling George to _'fuck off and let him be'_ , because he had it handled, or at least he had back then.

George had slapped Matty with an ultimatum then, quit or _leave_ , and Matty had foolishly chosen the second option, his stubborn pride preventing him from admitting that he had a problem, so he walked away from his best friend, silently begging for the younger man to chase him down and apologize, but it never happened, and Matty has lost all hope of George returning by this point.

**_I was late but I arrived_ **

Matty misses George like a phantom limb, except it's his heart that's been removed, so it's no wonder he's unable to function without the organ that is essential to his survival.

At first, Matty found himself talking to George like he was still there, asking his opinion on something before realizing that he's alone, but he bites his tongue now to save himself the pain that follows the unintended slip ups.

He cried a lot the first few weeks without George, spending most of his free time sobbing into his pillow and debating over how he's going to continue living now that everything he's ever cared about is in shambles.

Matty's tried to plead for George's forgiveness numerous times, but George's response is always the same, _'kick the drugs and then they can talk'_.

**_I'm sorry but I'd rather be getting high than watching my family die_ **

Matty can't though, no matter how hard he tries, and he _has_ tried, because he would do anything for George, but he's too far gone, and eventually, he stops calling George entirely, snorting another line of cocaine whenever the urge to hear his best friend's voice becomes particularly unbearable.

Matty wonders if anyone is aware of how far he's truly fallen, and he really doesn't think they are.

He sugar coats everything when Ross asks him how he's holding up, and Adam rarely bothers to question it anymore on the rare occasions they speak. George no longer gives a fuck what happens to Matty, which leaves only his mother, who had called him earlier today just like she does every week.

Matty had plastered on an unnecessary smile that she couldn't see, faking a cheerful tone for the duration of the conversation. He refuses to allow his mother to get a glimpse of the human wreckage her son has morphed into, and as far as she knows, he's still employed at the local Tesco and writing music in his free time, even though Matty was fired from there ages ago.

**_Exaggerate and you and I_ **

George had been the one to get him that job, because god knows Matty wouldn't have been able to obtain it on his own. George was always doing things like that for him, going out of his way to help Matty even if he hadn't asked for it, encouraging him to keep trying after every failure that was thrown in his face, and Matty hadn't realized how much he needs George's supportive presence in his life until recently.

Matty would give anything to rewind time, to be able to go back to the days when George warmed his sheets every night, when he could hide the shakes in George's touch and forget about his craving for drugs entirely, his blood thrumming under George's hands instead of because of an artificial substance.

They weren't anything official - _not_ _really_ , and if anyone asked, they would claim to be nothing more than exceptionally close mates, but they sure as hell acted like a couple, and now that Matty's left bereft of George's unique brand of affection, he thinks that there were feelings woven throughout their relationship that he had been too stupid to notice until it no longer mattered.

**_Oh I think I did something terrible to your body, don't you mind_ **

Matty still dreams of George every night, which always ends in him waking up trembling and in tears, his arms clutching at the empty space that his best friend used to fill before he pushes his hands against his chest in a feeble attempt at forcing his broken heart back into place.

Matty hates recalling the way George's lips would slot against his like they were made to be there, or the sting of his teeth scraping over his neck, but worst of all is when his mind produces images of how George would hold him so tenderly. His long limbs always enveloped Matty's smaller frame entirely, making Matty feel safe, and wanted, and maybe even _loved_.

But that's all over now - George hates him, and _really_ , Matty deserves that.

Matty's spends far too much time thinking about what seemed to be an irrational surge of anger on George's part, because Matty never understood why George so detested Matty's bad habits, but distance has brought him a sense of clarity that he was severely lacking in before.

He's almost certain he's figured it out now after so long apart, although he could be wrong, but he can't come up with any other explanation. George has always been sensitive, especially when Matty is involved, so maybe George couldn't stomach watching Matty ruin himself, leading him to cut Matty out of his life before his destructive nature kills the both of them.

**_I put your mother through hell, don't you mind_ **

Matty drifts off for a bit, waking up to another notice being pushed underneath his door, informing him that the rent's long due and he needs to pay up or get out.

Matty's short on money though, and he hasn't had the desire to perform, not even for passer-bys. He wonders if he should just pack up his meager belongs and see how long he lasts on the streets, which is the inevitable end to this road he's dragging himself down anyway.

Matty knows his mother would take him back without question, all he would have to do would be to make one phone call, but he can't force himself to be that selfish, or maybe it is his pride that is preventing him from dialing the familiar number and revealing how badly he has fucked up.

He refuses to bring drugs into his childhood home though, not that his mother would allow it if he did, but Matty has also forgotten how to live without them.

Sadly enough, Matty is always going to choose his precious crystals in favor of a roof over his head, making himself the epitome of pathetic, but Matty is too far gone to care.

**_I hurt your brother as well, don't you mind, don't you mind_ **

Matty can't go home, that isn't an option, and not only because he wants to spare his mother from the truth, but because he won't be able to look his brother in the eye without losing the last shreds of his already tattered dignity.

Louis idolizes Matty for some unexplained reason, and Matty doesn't want to disappoint the only person who still believes he might amount to something eventually, even if Matty knows that couldn't be further from the truth.

 _Still_ \- the fact that Lou thinks of Matty so highly is a tiny spot of warmth in the frigid blackness that he's currently enveloped in, so he's not going to rip away that illusion from the younger man. He'll let him figure out what a fuck-up Matty is in his own time.

**_Oh I was thinking about killing myself, don't you mind_ **

Matty sleeps some more before waking up in a cold sweat, visions dancing behind his closed eyelids involving death, and pain, and oblivion, and as always - _George_.

Matty is so tired of this, of aching for someone who doesn't care for him any longer, of being alone, of needing a high to feel anything that isn't some form of bone crushing sorrow.

Matty can't do this anymore, he knows that now. When he glances down at the pink page reminding him that he's days away from losing his home, something shatters inside of him.

It's the final straw that breaks Matty's resolve to keep holding on, because it's pointless - _everything_ is, so Matty isn't going to fool himself into pretending that he can continue like this for another second.

Matty often jumps to conclusions in this way, emerging from a fog of confusion and doubt into a period of lucidity that's borderline startling in its intensity, and that's exactly what's happening to him right now.

The answer to all of his problems that have been lurking at the back of his brain has been forcibly dragged to the foreground. Matty's seeing everything in a new light, and he knows now what he has to do.

Before he can second-guess himself, Matty is getting up, gathering his last bottle of wine, all of the pills in his depleted cabinet, as well as his emergency stash of cocaine, mentally calculating if he has enough to succeed with his morbid intentions, and _yes_ \- Matty thinks that he does.

A part of Matty knows he's being irrational, and he has other options that don't involve killing himself, but that portion of his mind is minuscule. Its soft whispers are being drowned out underneath the screaming that is encouraging him onward, telling him this is the only way he can ever be happy again.

And it's not like he hasn't considered this before, because he _has_. It isn't a split second decision that he's going to regret as soon as he swallows the first pill - at least, Matty prays it isn't.

Matty waits a bit with his hands full of what will hopefully end his life, searching for some sign that he shouldn't do this, but when nothing comes besides a strengthening of his resolve, Matty returns to the couch, popping open one of the small containers before sticking as many tablets into his mouth as he can, chasing them down with a large swig of dark wine that burns his taste buds pleasantly.

Once Matty's finished swallowing all of the pills, he snorts two lines of cocaine in succession, his head throbbing and his nose stinging as he collapses back against the worn cushions with a soft sigh. He doesn't feel anything yet, but he knows it's only a matter of time.

**_I love you, don't you mind, don't you mind_ **

Matty isn't sure if it's an effect from the cocktail of drugs he's just taken or something else that has him reaching for his phone, dialing a number which he still has memorized even though he hasn't used it for far too long, but he doesn't try to stop himself for once, allowing the device to ring as he holds his breath in anticipation.

George doesn't pick up though, not that Matty expects him to, but _still_ \- his ignorance of Matty has been slowly suffocating the older man, and now his lungs are failing to inflate, making it so that he can't draw a breath without it ending in a sob.

The familiar message that George hasn't changed since he was eighteen starts playing, prompting Matty to leave a message after the beep, and although this is where he typically hangs up, he doesn't this time, waiting for the harsh chime before inhaling heavily, trying to force his swollen tongue to form coherent words before he loses his nerve entirely.

"George," Matty croaks out, his eyes squeezing shut as he does his best not to break down in tears while he's being recorded. "Sorry for calling, I just - I don't know..." Matty trails off, cursing himself for failing at explaining the mess in his head and the constriction surrounding his heart, but he also doesn't want George to catch on to how miserable he truly is, even if he'll find out soon enough. "I miss you, and I'm sorry, but you know that. I'm still not getting any better - _in fact_ , it's worse now. I'm not sure how long I'm going to be able to keep my flat, so I guess I just wanted to officially say goodbye before I have to leave, not that you care." Matty whimpers then, his farewell sounding out far too loudly in the otherwise silent room, but it needs to be said. "I'm going now, and don't think you have to return my call. I hope you're doing well." Matty isn't going to voice the words on the tip of his tongue, but they slip past his teeth before he can recapture them. "I love you mate."

Matty ends the message abruptly, rubbing the palm of his hands against his eyes roughly until colorful spots begin dancing across the blackness that is his vision, trying to trap the burning tears he feels lurking there with the pressure, but it doesn't work, and within minutes, Matty is sobbing into the crook of his elbow, his skinny frame shaking under the intensity of his cries, his ribs heaving so hard Matty thinks they might break if he doesn't manage to calm down soon.

Matty hates himself for telling George he loves him, although George will take it in a platonic fashion, but that translation won't be accurate, because Matty does love George - he fucking _adores_ him in fact, and nothing will change that.

Matty shouldn't have called George - he knows that, but he's weak and hurting. His defenses are broken down by his rapidly approaching death, and he had to speak the truth aloud before the chance is taken from him, even if George doesn't understand it, even if it makes everything harder for him when he discovers what Matty has done, if he'll even care that is.

Matty ends up in the bathroom somehow after he's regained control of his unruly emotions, gazing at his ragged reflection that is staring back at him with bloodshot eyes. He notices how thin he's become - not that he hasn't always been skinny, but now he looks borderline _sickly_. His bones create a visible map of his skeleton that shouldn't be this prominent, his wrists are so delicate, he's surprised they can support the weight of his hands, and his nose is red and irritated, courtesy of too much blow and an afternoon spent crying.

To sum it up, Matty looks like a walking epitome of death. The thought makes him laugh since he won't be alive for much longer if everything goes to plan, but the sound emerges in a choked off fashion, and he has to halt it in its tracks before it evolves into another round of sobs.

Matty's stomach is beginning to hurt now, his chest is tight and his throat is filling with bile, but he pushes back the urge to vomit, not wanting to lose any of the pills that are quickly ripping him apart from the inside out.

Not liking the idea of being found on the dirty tile floor by whoever will end up looking for him, Matty makes his way to his bedroom, his muscles smarting and his vision blurring as the drugs start to take an effect.

Matty winces with every step, his body in agony by the time he makes it to the foot of his bed, but he welcomes the pain, because it is a prelude to the peace he so desperately craves.

Matty wonders if he should leave a note, and in hindsight, he probably would have benefited from thinking this whole thing through a bit more, but Matty knows he would have managed to talk himself out of it if he had done any more planning.

Matty's fingers close weakly around a nearby pen and scrap of paper, but his arm is shaking so much he can barely hold onto the slim object. Matty gets one line down before his stomach twists violently, causing him to clutch his middle as he cries out from the hot spikes of what feels to be liquid fire that is shooting throughout his bloodstream.

Matty whimpers at the next rush of pain, and this time, he can't keep his stomach contents where they belong. He leans over the side of his mattress so he can be sick on the floor, his eyes watering and his spine arching forward as his gags loudly, knowing that he can't make the journey back into the bathroom without falling on his face.

Matty smiles through the tears streaking his face once he's finished though, because it's worked this time, he's sure of it.

His sight is already fading away, and his limbs are too heavy to lift. Matty feels like he should be scared, or at least nervous, but he's _not_. In fact - he's happier than he's been in months, which only solidifies the fact that Matty has finally done something right.

As Matty fades in and out of consciousness, he thinks he hears something coming from the other room that might be his phone, but he's already lost in the pleasant darkness that's leading him away from this hell he calls life.

Matty's shedding his misery so he can don a coat made of nothingness. The weight is comforting, and it reminds him of how it feels when George would pull him close to his chest and hum a random tune into his ear, his chin pressing against Matty's curls as he rocks from side to side slowly.

That's the image that Matty takes with him as he surrenders completely, pretending that he's with George once more as his body shivers and his lids fall shut.

~~~

**_I put your mother through hell, don't you mind_ **

George is surprised when he wakes up to a missed call from Matty since he hasn't heard from the older man in quite some time.

Much to his chagrin, his heart still drops into his stomach at just the sight of his name. George wonders how long it is going to take him to get over the loss of his best friend, because he thought by now he would be unaffected by something so simple, but apparently that isn't the case.

George takes his time phoning him back though, mostly because he needs to gather his wits and decide what he wants to say to Matty if he picks up.

George misses Matty - he _really_ does, but he also won't let himself be a silent observer to Matty's addiction. He cares for him too much to watch Matty wither away into nothing, but he's starting to regret cutting him out of his life so harshly.

George had assumed that Matty would come to his senses after pouting for a few days, but his best friend had proved him wrong, and George didn't know what else to do besides stand firm and continue to refuse Matty's companionship until he decides that he wants to get clean.

George could try to force him to turn his act around of course, but Matty is nothing if not stubborn, and George knows he will be impossible to help until he makes the choice himself that he doesn't want to rely on substances for happiness anymore.

It's been months now though, and George thinks he's willing to reconcile with Matty even if he is still dead set on believing that he is fine the way he is.

George retrieves his phone after a quick shower, only now noticing that Matty's left a voicemail as well. Pressing the necessary buttons quickly, George reclines on his bed and waits until Matty's familiar voice starts filling his ears.

George listens to Matty speak intently, his chest constricting when Matty begins with an apology, which is so unlike Matty that George feels a dull rush of panic flaring in his veins, but he ignores it.

Matty is still talking, something about maybe losing his flat soon, followed by a goodbye that George doesn't like the sound of, but it's Matty's closing statement that has him truly on edge, his whispered _'I_ _love you mate'_ that makes George want to take back every harsh utterance he has ever spewed in Matty's direction so they can pick up where they left off like nothing has happened.

George had forgotten how much those three words could warm his skin as if they were created from sunbeams instead of syllables, but now old memories are rushing back. George isn't furious with Matty for the first time since he's left, _no_ \- he just wants him back, even if they can't be as close as they were.

George dials Matty's number as soon as the recording is finished, his long fingers drumming against his thigh as he waits for the older man to answer, but after five rings, the call ends, prompting George to leave a message or to hang up and try again.

Matty's probably just sleeping George assumes, or maybe he's gone out for a bit. George doesn't want to come off as desperate by ringing Matty up too many times, so he forces himself to take a deep breath, choosing to listen to his voicemail once more in case Matty left any clues to his whereabouts that had escaped his notice.

George pays more attention this time, meaning that he catches the hitch to Matty's words, as well as the deep sighs that Matty always produces when he's trying to hold back tears.

The uneasy sensation from earlier returns full force as George realizes that Matty is on the verge of sobs, and for some reason, George feels that it's paramount that he gets in contact with Matty sooner rather than later.

When his second attempt to reach Matty produces no results, George turns to Ross instead. He's aware that the two still keep in touch, so hopefully Ross will have information on Matty that will calm George's racing heart.

Unlike Matty, Ross picks up quickly. George doesn't even give his friend a chance to finish his greeting before he's asking the question that's corroding away at his tongue, his voice wavering embarrassingly as he speaks, but George knows Ross won't call him out on it.

"Have you heard from Matty lately?"

"No...why? You two finally talking again?" Ross queries curiously.

"No - not yet, it's _just_ -" George pauses, trying to figure out how to explain his concern, which is a difficult task when he can't be certain what's causing it. "He left me a message not too long ago, he sounded pretty upset...I tried to call him back, but he's not answering, and I'm just worried I guess."

"Well...Matty hasn't been doing too well since you had your falling out. I've been trying to help him the best I can, but he's a mess George." Ross's tone can only be described as motherly, and George winces when he recalls the days when his voice carried the same amount of affection whenever he spoke about Matty.

"Can you do me a favor and check up on him for me?" George asks, because although he does want to make things right with his former best friend, he's not entirely sure if he's ready to see him in person just yet.

"I can't right now, got to be at an ultrasound appointment in twenty minutes," Ross explains, and although he sounds apologetic, George can hear the festering frustration caused by their combined stubbornness bleeding through his friend's sentence.

"Alright - I guess I can swing by, sorry for bothering you mate."

"It's fine, and George..." Ross pauses, drawing in a deep breath before continuing, "don't get too upset with him yeah? He's going through a lot of shit, and he doesn't need to be yelled at right now."

"I wasn't going to," George huffs, and he _really_ wasn't. George would never snap at Matty while he's so distressed - in fact, he's planning on doing whatever he can to ease Matty's sadness if Matty will let him.

George isn't even sure why he's got this desire to make sure that Matty's okay, because he's probably fine, but George knows he won't be able to relax until he's quenched his curiosity about what has Matty in such a state that he's called George after going so long without breaking their mutual silence.

"Good - let me know how it goes okay?"

"I will," George agrees before hanging up quickly, stuffing his wide feet into the first pair of boots he finds before grabbing his keys and heading out the front door, wanting to get this over with before he loses his nerve entirely.

**_I hurt your brother as well, don't you mind, don't you mind_ **

George spends the time it takes to drive to Matty's flat thinking, trying to figure out why he is doing this, and what he's going to say when he sees Matty for the first time in months.

George doesn't understand what's inspired him to go out of his way to see Matty in the first place, because he swore he wouldn't give in to the older man this time, he promised himself he would stay resolute, but now look at him.

George thinks this was probably inevitable though, because Matty always won the few spats they had partaken in, no matter how assured George was that he was in the right, and although George is still going to press for Matty to get clean, he's willing to admit that Matty's worn him down, and he just wants him back in his life - high or not.

It's been strange without Matty around, George can't deny that. Matty is like a brother to him, _well_ \- maybe that's not an accurate term, because brothers don't casually fuck, but still, George cares about Matty more than he does his real family who he rarely speaks to anymore.

Maybe that is why George was so harsh with Matty after discovering his lie, because he was too close to him. George has never been an expert at dealing with his problems, and when his situation at home took a harmful turn, he cut everyone out of his life, which is exactly what he did to Matty.

George doesn't want to lose Matty though, he's too important to George for him to give up on without a fight, which is why he's pulling his car to a stop in front of the building he's avoided ever since Matty informed him of his new address, because even if he might regret this later on, George is willing to give Matty one more chance.

**_Oh I was thinking 'bout killing myself, don't you mind_ **

George immediately senses that there is something wrong the moment he steps foot inside Matty's place, using the key Ross gave him ages ago in hopes of spiking a reunion that hadn't happened when Matty fails to respond to his numerous attempts at knocking.

It's quiet, which Matty is anything but; he's always murmuring to himself, or fiddling with his old acoustic guitar, or at least pushing pen to paper, but there is no sound at all that George can distinguish, not even when he strains his ears after calling Matty's name, fear splashing his tone with shades of orange that he can't displace.

George glances at his surroundings idly, barely noting the empty wine bottles and what looks to be the remains of a line of cocaine like he usually would, because finding Matty is all that matters right now. George can worry about his obviously worsening addictions once he's gotten that out of the way.

George briefly considers the fact that Matty might have gone out, but his phone's still on the coffee table, and George knows that Matty is more attached to the device than he is to his own head, so he quickly discards that thought, heading deeper into the small space even though his head is screaming at him to turn back.

George finds the bathroom empty, leaving only the bedroom left to check. George's hands shake as he pushes open the partially closed door, but some of the unexplained terror that's threatening to choke him dissipates when he spies Matty's familiar frame lying in a ball on top of the sheets, his dark curls obscuring his face from George's prying eyes.

It takes George all of two seconds to notice that something's amiss, and to this day, he isn't sure what tipped him off first; maybe the smell, the putrid scent of vomit and fear that coats his nose when he makes his way closer to his best friend, or possibly how he's not muttering and tossing about like he always does in his sleep, or it might be Matty's stillness, the way that his chest fails to rise and fall as it should be.

George's phone is out before he can blink, his fumbling fingers pressing the three keys that will connect him to emergency services, although a part of him knows that it's already too late, that Matty isn't breathing, but he's got to try and save him, even if he doesn't understand what's happened, but he can only assume that Matty took too much of something and his body finally shut down on him.

After explaining the situation to the operator in a shaky voice, pleading for them to hurry when the woman he's speaking to assures him that someone is on the way, George drops his phone without bothering to end the call, taking small steps that seem to cover miles until he's standing in front of his best friend.

George isn't sure what he's feeling, _actually_ \- he's doing his best to pretend that he is incapable of producing emotions at all, because if he admits to the fact that his stomach's in his knees and his heart's in his throat and that he thinks he might be sick at any moment, that will make all of this real. It will mean Matty's _dead_ \- or close enough anyway, because when George presses the pads of his fingers against where his pulse should be thrumming away, he feels nothing, which is what he expected, but that doesn't mean that the realization hurts any less.

"Matty," George croaks out, his eyes brimming with tears as he shakes the smaller man gently, trying to get some sort of a reaction out of him, even though he knows it's pointless. "You can't do this to me mate...please wake up."

Matty doesn't respond - _of course_ he doesn't. His head lolls back on his neck, showcasing his closed eyes and pale face, and that's when George loses it, because he can't imagine Matty as anything other than vibrant, thrumming with vitality and energy even if its source comes from negative things, but now George is faced with an image that he'll never be able to erase, no matter how hard he tries.

"Fuck!" George screams, his voice emerging ragged and raw as his knees give out and he falls next to Matty, jostling the other man to the point that his cold skin is pressing up against George's bare arms. George hears something crinkle with their movement, and when he looks down, he notices a piece of paper that Matty must have been lying on earlier.

As George scans Matty's familiar scrawl eagerly, hoping for an explanation, but hating the one he gets, he begins to cry. His composure snaps completely as he's wracked with deep, ugly sobs that seem to form in his toes and rip their way out of his body, leaving him bleeding and aching within.

It's a suicide note - or the start of one, that much is obvious, although it's hard to decipher Matty's smudged handwriting. George can still read it though, it's got his name on the top, and underneath it is something that's going to haunt George forever, although Matty's whispered this exact phrase to him numerous times before.

**_I love you, don't you mind, don't you mind_ **

It's just a simple line that Matty's decided to leave everyone with - one _fucking_ sentence that has George drowning in guilt and old affections, but it's too late to fix anything now.

Matty's taken the chance away from him, and the bitter realization that he'll never be able to tell Matty he loves him again to his face has George pulling Matty's stiff torso against his own, his choked cries muffling his words as he tells Matty how much he needs him, how much he misses him, how he forgives him.

George tries his hardest to pretend that Matty's going to wake up any second now and return his sentiments, but George knows he won't, so he isn't at all surprised when the paramedics arrive and pronounce him dead on the scene after a quick examination.

They take Matty away as George follows dejectedly, wondering if they will notice that Matty's not the only corpse in the room, because George thinks he counts as one too. He might still be breathing, but his heart has ceased to beat, and he doubts it ever will again since it always belonged to Matty in the first place.

**Author's Note:**

> I hurt myself with this, but at the same time, it might also be one of my favorite things that I have ever written.
> 
> I debated on giving it a happy ending, but it just didn't fit the song in my opinion. I will do my best to add some more lighthearted one-shots to this collection soon though.


End file.
